Page 77 of Return of the Vengeful Quee

Rames paused in the act of smoothing a coat of pale green frosting across the etched surface of the tea cake. “I can try.”

“Tell people that I’ve returned, and that I’m committed to fighting for my people. In fact, tell them I spent my time away gathering alliances to help us do just that.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Holland reached for one of the frosted tea cakes, and Rames snatched the tray into the air and slid it onto a nearby shelf. “What if that gets back to the Rakuuna, and they try to question you about it? Or worse, what if they send word to Alaric that you’re gathering support against him?”

“No, actually, this could work.” Tal began pacing. “Father never does anything that won’t benefit him politically. If he believes future alliances with other kingdoms would be at risk if something happens to Charis, he might reconsider her value to him.”

“Or he might order the Rakuuna just to kill her now, and I really think that ought to be a higher priority for you,” Holland said.

“Nothing is a higher priority for me than Charis.” Tal stopped in his tracks and glared at Holland.

“Then maybe we shouldn’t encourage her to goad her enemies with a rumor about alliances,” Holland shot back.

“Or maybe we should trust that she knows what she’s doing.” Tal’s voice rose.

Charis moved away from them and said quietly to Rames, “Do as I asked, please.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Was it risky potentially letting the Rakuuna know she had allies willing to help her? Yes. But if she didn’t turn the tide of public opinion back in her favor, she’d risk driving out her enemies only to be faced with civil war.

She was banking on the Rakuuna feeling so secure in their physical prowess that they’d never suspect she had a weapon capable of hurting them until it was too late.

Ferris and Mason were still in a heated discussion as Charis began moving toward the door, leaving Holland and Tal arguing beside the trestle table.

She didn’t have the patience or the energy to face the long, dangerous journey back to the palace, think through the strategies she needed to employ to win back her people’s favor without jeopardizing the safety of her allies at sea, and silence two separate arguments. Her jaw clenched as she neared the door, where Ferris and Mason were staring intently out from behind the curtained window while whispering back and forth.

She wasn’t the only one scared to make her way back to the palace. Her future wasn’t the only one balanced on a sword’s edge. Arguments were bound to happen, and getting upset with her allies wouldn’t help anyone.

Drawing in a deep breath, she reached for something compassionate to say as she neared the door.

“I don’t have orders from your father,” Mason’s fierce whisper reached Charis’s ear, and she froze.

“Orders from me are the same as orders from Father, and you’d do well to remember your place, Bartho.” Ferris strained to look out the window. “This rain is going to make the journey that much slower. We can’t afford a delay.”

He turned from the window, but Charis was already back beside Rames, her skin prickling, her limbs screaming at her to run.

He’d said Bartho. Not Mason.

Bartho.

Why hide Mason’s identity? And why did that name strike a chord of dread deep within her?

She pretended to study a frosted teacake as her thoughts raced. Bartho . . . She’d heard that name before the invasion, but what was the connection? Rullenvor? That didn’t feel right. Was he involved in the war with Montevallo? No, she remembered every emissary Mother had ever received. Had he been on Lady Channing’s staff? Charis shook her head, though the chill on her skin refused to leave.

Could he be Montevallian? She froze as a memory surfaced. She was standing in a dungeon cell, her dagger to an assassin’s throat, promising to destroy the woman and everyone she’d ever loved unless the assassin gave up the name of the person who’d hired her to kill Charis.

The name she gave was Bartho.

They’d never found a trace of him, but maybe that was because he’d been sheltered all along by a respected member of Mother’s royal council. By a member of her family.

Charis’s thoughts tumbled wildly, snatching at details, connections, and puzzle pieces, slotting them into place. She couldn’t let Ferris see that she’d overheard him. If his family was connected to the man who’d orchestrated assassination attempts against Charis, then everything Ferris had told her from the moment she’d set foot in Calera was a lie.

And if everything she thought she knew about Alaric, the Rakuuna, and her situation in Calera was a lie, then she, her crew, and the people using the bakery as a safe house were in danger the instant the Everlys realized their deception had been exposed.

“We need to leave now, Your Majesty,” Ferris called. “It’s a long walk back.”

She nodded, thankful that Holland was still delivering a parting shot in his argument with Tal. Using the volume of Holland’s voice as cover, she leaned close to Rames and said quietly, “Do not react to anything I’m about to say. I’m going to take a teacake as if that’s my only reason for being close to you—but the instant we leave this building, get everyone out. We’ve been betrayed.”

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